


Cat Scratch Fever

by livingvakariouslythroughyou (supercow585)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Banter, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Karedevil Week 2018, Non quite Smut, Prompt Fic, karedevil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercow585/pseuds/livingvakariouslythroughyou
Summary: A gift for @irelandhoneybee for Karedevil Week 2018 based on the following prompt: Imagine person A walking out of the bathroom after a shower, half-naked and wreathed in steam, and B immediately dropping whatever they were holding. Bonus if it’s an animal which gives them the stink eye before slinking away.





	Cat Scratch Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irelandhoneybee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irelandhoneybee/gifts).



> My apologies for the title- the reference was too perfect to pass up, though I don’t personally care for the song or it’s artist. 
> 
> Also, ask me about the cat’s name if you’re curious. Maybe I’ll one day get around to writing the fic in my head where they find and name her. :-p

Leaning against the kitchen counter in Matt’s apartment, first-aid kit out as she works to disinfect a seriously nasty scratch on her leg, Karen is starting to regret the decision to adopt a cat. Or at least this one - their new calico, Blanche. The feline in question sits, glaring and grooming herself, on the back of the couch. Karen thinks if the cat could laugh at her right now, she would. This seems particularly true as Karen hisses at the burn of antiseptic on a patch of her shredded skin, and the cat turns its head to survey her, wearing its feline grin. Karen gives a frustrated sigh as she fumbles with the flimsy wax paper wrapper of a band-aid. That’s when she hears a bemused chuckle from the bedroom.

“You know, you could have asked me to help you.” The sound of a dresser drawer being opened and shut a moment later underscores Matt’s comment.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “See, your smug demeanor just now is exactly why I’m doing it myself.”

This time he gives her a full-blown chortle in response. “I love it when you get all righteously indignant about something. It really brings out your stubborn streak.”

She smoothes a bandage over the deepest part of the gash and crumples the wrapper in her free hand before tossing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

His voice gets closer as he crosses from the bedroom to the kitchen. “Oh, it was meant as one.” He stops at the end of the counter and leans over to kiss her.

She hesitates for a moment, considering whether she’s frustrated enough with his antics to deny him, but in the end decides the cat is more to blame that he is, and she won’t punish herself by denying him the chance to kiss her. She leans the rest of the way across and meets his lips with a smile.

He hums softly as he kisses her and for a moment she can barely believe that this is really her life because it seems too good to be true. Well … except for the cat scratches, that is.

As she breaks the kiss, she finds herself yelping as Matt suddenly picks her up by the waist and slides her up on the counter. She fights a shiver as he slides the hem of her skirt up ever so slightly and trails soft fingers from her knee to her ankle to survey the damage. “She really wasn’t happy with you, was she?”

Karen swallows thickly. “No. She wasn’t. But I guess I can’t exactly blame her. I did get a little … distracted while I was holding her.”

Something about her tone must pique his interest, because Matt tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow at her, a knowing lilt in his voice. “Distracted? Care to share with the class, Ms. Page?”

A blush rises on her cheeks because she doesn’t particularly want to tell him why she was distracted. She pushes off of the counter and begins picking up the first-aid supplies on the counter. “It was nothing, really. I was just holding her when you came out of the shower and went into the bedroom. But as soon as you did, you asked me for something, or asked me a question ... d-didn’t you? So, I just turned to do whatever it was you asked of me, and I must have been so focused, I accidentally dropped her. But she wasn’t very happy about it. She landed on her feet, but she still got in a good scratch or two on her way down.”

With a purposeful click, she closes the first-aid kit case and walks past him toward the bathroom where she had seen him leaving the shower a short while before. And she allows herself a moment to replay the moment in her mind as it actually occurred.

She had been distracted, yes, but it hadn’t been by anything he’d said. Matt was distracting simply by existing in the world, but particularly so when he was naked with water droplets beading down his god-like form. And she was nothing if not a devout disciple. She’d had a religious experience as she watched him walk naked - save for a  _ very  _ casually slung towel - from the bathroom to the bedroom. The poor cat had simply been a casualty of her worshipful gazing.

Sighing to herself at the mental image of Matt without clothes, she returns the first-aid kit to its place in the under-the-sink cabinet. But her internal reverie is disturbed by a skeptical hum and the sound of Matt comforting the cat in a sing-song voice that would be cute if he wasn’t currently siding with the enemy.

“Did mean old Karen drop you, Blanche? Did she? Because she was ‘ _ distracted by something I said’ _ ?”

Matt smirks at her as he stands and crosses toward her. He stands before her in the middle of the floor, mirroring her pose, save for a look that is the epitome of smouldering. Her heart skips a beat at the sight, and she curses internally because it’s just not fair how he can do that.

Karen rolls her eyes at his mocking tone and walks back out of the bathroom. She finds him perched on the arm of the couch, scratching Blanche between the ears as she purrs contentedly. And something about the whole scene really irks her.

“Yep. That’s what I said,” Karen says with a flat tone. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans into her hip as she stares across the room at him.

“That’s funny. I don’t remember asking you to get me anything. I don’t remember saying anything at all, actually.”

Karen licks her lips and shrugs before crossing her arms and mimicking his current pose. “Huh. Weird. I hope your memory’s okay. How’s your head? Taken any serious blows while Daredeviling lately?”

Both of Matt’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. “Wow. That’s the line you’re gonna go with? Accusing me of, what, brain damage? Or a concussion at the very least? Rather than just admit that you were staring at me and you were so enthralled that you dropped our poor, innocent cat?”

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and squares her shoulders as she recrosses her arms. “It’s not a line if that’s what happened.”

He gives a mock disgusted scoff, a playful sneer on his face. He moves closer while he speaks, his voice going lower and with an edge of danger that he knows she likes. “And you call yourself a journalist. I thought you had principles, Page. That you were committed to telling the truth. I’m very disappointed in you.”

She can’t even pretend to hate the fact that he can hear her heart starting to pound, because while she might be caught, that doesn’t mean that she can’t have a little fun. “Is that so?” she asks, voice going low and sultry to match his.

A shiver runs down her spine as he comes toe-to-toe with her and hums an affirmative non-verbal that she can almost swear she feels reverberate in her stomach. He brings his hands up to trace light but purposeful fingertips up her arms to her neck. “I think I need to set the record straight.”

She tries and fails to swallow a breathy gasp as he drags his fingers across her collar bones.

And her heart stops for a moment when he lifts his lips just enough to whisper directly into the shell of her ear. 

“That, or I won’t be able to trust you to handle yourself around me. I’ll have to institute an all-clothes-all-the-time policy. All in order to save you from yourself, of course. And Blanche.”

Karen tries for an exasperated sigh, but it doesn’t sound very convincing; maybe because he’s still ghosting his lips over her ear and stealing her capacity for coherent thought, let alone mock outrage. Eventually she musters enough of her wits to put her hands on his shoulders and put some space in between them.

“You’re holding me for ransom, now?” she asks, with an arch tone. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

Matt leans in close again and presses an open-mouthed kiss to her neck beneath her ear. “Justice isn’t always fair, Ms. Page,” he says, with a low drawl. “I’d assume you’d have learned that by now. Still, the choice is yours. Admit to your staring, or lose the privilege entirely.”

His actions rile her so effectively that she can barely hear him for the blood that is rushing in her ears. Biting her lip is all that keeps her from moaning at him, and it’s a wonder that she doesn’t draw blood in the process. Part of her thinks she might just combust where she stands. Karen closes her eyes. She is losing this fight and she knows it. But when she really thinks about it, losing is the only outcome. Because the real tragedy here would be having to indefinitely forego the opportunity to see Matt’s beautiful form unencumbered by clothes. She’s not entirely sure that he would stick to his word, but she wouldn’t put it past him to try, all in the name of making a point. He says she’s stubborn, but he’s no better. He is a lawyer, after all.

She doesn’t really have a choice here.

At the the sound her annoyed huff, he pauses his lavishing of her neck and looks at her expectantly. She rolls her eyes at him. 

“ _ Fine _ . I take it back. Let the record reflect that I was, in fact,  _ so  _ distracted in my staring that I dropped the cat, and thus, the fault for the cat scratches rests solely in my own hands. Are you happy now?”

“Absolutely delighted.”

He begins kissing her neck again, but this time works his way up until he reaches her mouth. And then he pulls her in for a kiss that stops her breath, stops her heart, stops time itself as far as she can tell. Or it’s as if she’s finally starting to combust.

She wraps her arms around his neck in a rush because she fears she might just turn to ash if she doesn’t. And then his hands are everywhere - on her neck, in her hair, sliding down her back and the curve of her ass to hitch her leg up to his waist (or as close as her skirt will allow). But she winces as her band-aid catches against the fabric of his pants in the process. Matt pauses for a half a second before he picks her up in a bridal carry and starts off toward the bedroom, all while kissing her as passionately as he had moments previously.

And if the look on his face as he goes is any kind of a clue, she’s guessing that in the end, the scratches will have been  _ well _ worth it considering all the other good that she is getting out of tonight.

Maybe the cat can stay after all


End file.
